


The Inquisition Needs More than Fun

by caitirin



Series: The Chronicles of Teithranen Lavellan: Plant-Obsessed Soft-Hearted Inquisitor [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian has feelings, M/M, POV First Person, Romance, Short & Sweet, journal excerpts, sap and fluff, soft hearted inquisitors, teithranen lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitirin/pseuds/caitirin
Summary: [Excerpt from the journals of Magister Dorian Pavus, recorded during his time with the Inquisition]Holy crap, the Inquisitor is so open with his feelings, Dorian doesn't quite know how to handle it.---Get off and Get Out.That’s how it works in Tevinter. There are places we meet. Dark alleys, secret clubs, seedy neighborhoods where you stand as much a chance of getting gutted as you do getting gratified. There’s an entire language that you learn and carefully rehearsed motions that you go through when you’re looking for someone. I would call it a dance but for the fact that it lacks any of the beauty and grace involved in dancing. It’s transactional, it’s brief, and it never leaves you feeling good in any meaningful way. There’s nothing soft or gentle about my kind of love where I’m from. Maybe it’s because even the men who love women don’t get those idealized fairytale lives. I’ve always known it was idiotic to even hope for something more.





	The Inquisition Needs More than Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the romance scene during the Magister's Birthright quest.

[excerpted from the Journals of Magister Dorian Pavus, recorded during his time with the Inquisition]

Get off and Get Out.

That’s how it works in Tevinter. There are places we meet. Dark alleys, secret clubs, seedy neighborhoods where you stand as much a chance of getting gutted as you do getting gratified. There’s an entire language that you learn and carefully rehearsed motions that you go through when you’re looking for someone. I would call it a dance but for the fact that it lacks any of the beauty and grace involved in dancing. It’s transactional, it’s brief, and it never leaves you feeling good in any meaningful way. There’s nothing soft or gentle about my kind of love where I’m from. Maybe it’s because even the men who love women don’t get those idealized fairytale lives. I’ve always known it was idiotic to even hope for something more.

It’s no surprise that people started up the same tired rumors the moment I arrived. I’m an Evil Magister from Tevinter who has bewitched the Inquisitor. The people who aren’t actually frightened of me are either compelled or repulsed. Sometimes both at the same time. What can I say? I have that effect on people. I flirt with everyone, all the time, it’s just what I do, poor impulse control. I adore the attention, always have, and if I’m being honest I love seeing people squirm when it makes them uncomfortable. Poor Cullen, I thought he might pass out the way his face got so red when I smirked at him and winked. 

I winked at Lavellan too. And he just smiled back and ducked his head. He was blushing. Oh for fucks sake, he’s the Inquisitor! There’s so much damage his showing affection for me could cause him. I don’t want to undermine him and the entire reason that I came to this dreadful country. 

But it’s just so different with him. I would say like day and night but such a trite cliche would be utterly inadequate to describe it. His every feeling is written all over his face all the time. I mean the way he looked at me after that horrendous episode with my father. There I was, making an utter fool of myself and he calls me brave. And then I kissed him. I couldn’t help it. And Maker’s Breath it was good.

Kissing him was... worth every risk. But it was foolish and reckless. Kissing him in the library with strangers around every corner. The way he looks at me. I have never felt like that in my life. Not once. No one has ever looked at me like he does. Like there’s no one else around and he can’t even see anyone else. He just does that. Gives you his entire attention and listens like whatever idiotic thing you have to say is the most important thing in the world. And he does it with everyone. For Maker’s sake, he talks to the kitchen staff with the same respect and attentiveness as he does when he’s talking to Cassandra. 

And now he’s right here. I can’t take my eyes off curve of his back stretched out as he lays cushioned by pillows, fast asleep, spent and smiling, beside me. Without shifting my weight I could reach out and touch him again, feel the way his soft skin yields under my fingers. Still warm from moments ago when his entire body was pressed against mine, hot and desperate, and filled with delight. 

And then we talked and neither of us left. And I said the most ridiculous things and gave him every chance to back out and shut me down. And he didn’t. He wants more than just fun. And I’m lost. I’ve never slept with another man before. Fucking them, yes, plenty of times, but this is something new and I’m like a fly in a spider web utterly caught and utterly terrified. I’m fighting the urge to just push him away before this whole fantasy dream world crumbles like so much spun sugar confection.

It blows my mind, and it really makes me wonder. What if he really is The Herald? What if Andraste really did send him? If it’s true then he’d probably be better served if I kept my distance. He doesn’t need to be painted with the same brush as me.

But then he seeks me out and smiles at me and my heart melts. I just want to keep touching him, keep holding him, keep on kissing him. I’d walk through anything to stand at his side. And I have. So much mud and blood and shit traipsing around the countryside, just to make sure nothing happens to him. And I’m going to keep on doing it. I am like a lovesick child deep in the throes of a first crush. With much better fashion sense, taste, and impeccable style of course, but the analogy holds. 

For the first time in my life, I find myself caring about what people might say about my relationship. Not for myself, and this is how I know it’s really causing me to come unglued, because there is no one who has a higher opinion of me than I do, but for him. I’m coming to terms with the fact that it doesn’t much matter what I want anymore. 

Maybe this is that love thing I’ve heard so much about. Never thought I’d feel it.


End file.
